


Well executed

by BlushLouise



Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Couch Cuddles, Fluff, Gen, Intervention, if we sit on them they have to settle down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-18 01:28:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19966480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlushLouise/pseuds/BlushLouise
Summary: Prowl works too much. So does Ratchet.Streetwise and First Aid have a Plan.





	Well executed

Walking into the rec room to see Prowl still working wasn’t unexpected at all, though Streetwise did suppress a sigh at the sight. His mentor was sitting in the corner of the couch, a stack of datapads on his lap that only escaped being called a mountain because Streetwise had seen how truly epic the stacks on Prowl’s desk could become. Prowl was technically off-shift, but once again he hadn’t let that stop him.

It was time to take action.

::First Aid?:: Streetwise commed. ::Prowl is doing it again.::

::So’s Ratchet.:: His brother sounded exasperated, which wasn’t surprising. Ratchet was possibly even worse at letting go than Prowl was. ::Hoist is here and ready to take over, but Ratchet won’t leave.::

::Okay.:: Streetwise glanced at his mentor again. ::Does that mean we’re a go?::

::No better time for it. Let’s do it.::

Streetwise smiled as he cut the connection. Then he broadcast the predetermined code.

In front of him, Wheeljack downed the rest of his cube and dispersed it. Skyfire shifted, looking like he was getting ready to get up. Jazz, who’d been wandering from table to table chatting, settled in a chair where he had clear view of Prowl. From Hot Spot, Streetwise got the sense that the rest of his brothers were on their way, and Silverbolt commed that they were right behind them.

The pieces were moving.

Ratchet came first, as predicted. First Aid had estimated that telling him that Prowl was in the rec room working would be enough to have him hurry down there. Ratchet was clearly not amused - he looked like he was fueled by nothing but frustration and medical coding. “Prowl, seriously, if I have to come down here one more time to tell you to _stop working_ and fragging _relax_ , I’m going to put you on medical leave until you’ve recharged for a solid week straight!”

“I have work to do,” Prowl replied, calm as only he could be in the face of an irate Ratchet. “I conceded to do it here, that will suffice.”

Ratchet threw up his hands. “The location was never the issue! You need to stop, Prowl! Gimme those.” He held out his hand expectantly, staring down at Prowl. “Come on.”

Prowl sighed heavily. Then he handed the datapads over. There were almost more of them than Ratchet could manage to carry safely. “Fine. For now.”

Ratchet nodded, satisfied, and turned to leave. Then everything happened at once.

“I’ll take those for you, Ratchet,” Bumblebee chirped, darting in and snatching half the datapads.

Sideswipe grinned and took the other half. “We’ll just put these away for now.”

At the same time, a deceptively sedate-moving Sunstreaker changed direction at the last moment, sneaking in behind Ratchet and deftly flipping him onto the couch, where First Aid promptly sat on him.

Prowl stared with wide optics. And squeaked as a smaller black and white frame dropped down on his own lap. “ _Jazz?”_

“What the frag are you slaggers doing!” Ratchet exploded as Sunstreaker sat down next to him, effectively pinning him between Prowl and First Aid. “Get off me!” He managed to push First Aid aside and onto Sunstreaker’s lap, which seemed to surprise both of them. But when Ratchet leaned forward to get up, a pair of large white hands landed on his shoulders from behind the couch and pushed him back into the soft cushions.

“Sit,” Skyfire said calmly. “You’re off shift.”

Ratchet’s response was a wordless, ferocious growl, but he really had nothing on the strength of a shuttle-former.

That was when the Aerials arrived. Streetwise marked their time on his HUD, updating the expected outcomes accordingly. He may not have Prowl’s tac-net, but he could plot fairly well for all that.

Fireflight squealed and dropped into Ratchet’s lap, smiling at First Aid who’d somehow ended up cradled close to Sunstreaker’s chest. Skydive and Silverbolt sat down on the floor, leaning up against Prowl’s legs, and Blades snagged Slingshot just as the other ran past and dumped down on Prowl’s other side. Air Raid whooped exuberantly and lay down on top of the couch back. He didn’t even fall when Sunstreaker grumbled and jerked his helm back to thump Air Raid’s thigh.

Through it all, Ratchet kept on grousing. Prowl seemed resigned to his fate, though – that probably had something to do with Jazz snuggling up against him and whispering in his audial.

“Ready?” Bluestreak asked. He was hovering over near the TV.

“Ready,” Streetwise confirmed, ignoring the way Prowl’s focus whipped towards him. He waited until the TV was on before sitting down in front of Prowl, cuddling up between Silverbolt and a newly-arrived Hot Spot.

Prowl leaned forward and touched his shoulder. “So this was your plan?”

“Yes, sir.” He turned a bit so he could glance up at Prowl. “You both needed a break.”

“You’re overstepping,” Ratchet growled as Bluestreak announced their Ghibli marathon was beginning. “Does Optimus know about this?”

“Yes,” a deep voice replied from behind them. “Of course he does. He authorized it. It was an excellent plan.” Prime winked at Streetwise, and he felt himself flush happily, warming up from his pedes to the top of his helm. “Well done, Streetwise. And you too, First Aid.” Optimus smiled down at the two members of his command staff, all but buried in other mechs. “Bluestreak, how long does this movie marathon last?”

“Four movies… About ten hours or so, Prime.”

“Good.” Optimus lay down carefully on the floor, his head on Hot Spot’s thigh. Streetwise stared. He wasn’t the only one, either – Prowl looked scandalized, and Jazz was a pile of giggles. Hot Spot didn’t seem to know what to do. His optics were wide, and his hands were hovering over the Prime’s plating. He eventually settled for a chaste touch to the shoulder. “Until then, we’re all on break. Blaster, Ironhide, you have the _Ark_.”

Ironhide laughed. “Sure thing, Prime.”

Streetwise watched as the leader of the Autobots settled against his legs. Behind him, Prowl whispered something to Jazz that had the saboteur purring. Prowl’s hand tightened on Streetwise’s shoulder for a moment before letting go.

::That went even better than we thought it would, didn’t it?:: First Aid commed. He looked very smug, cuddled up against Sunstreaker’s chest like that.

::It did. I never expected Optimus to actually join us.::

::Ya both did good,:: Jazz broke in. Streetwise wasn’t too surprised he’d hacked their conversation. ::Now shut up and watch the movie. Ya deserve a break too.::

Streetwise relaxed, his head dropping to rest on Hot Spot’s shoulder. ::Yes, sir.::

He could do that.


End file.
